


Ten Times Ben Told Leslie He Loved Her, Before He Told Her That He Loved Her

by jell_0_shot



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 23:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jell_0_shot/pseuds/jell_0_shot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title kind of explains it all; ten snapshots into Ben and Leslie's lives before they've verbally admitted that they love each other, but Ben's actions prove that he's loved her from the start</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Times Ben Told Leslie He Loved Her, Before He Told Her That He Loved Her

1\. Obnoxious, sleazy men had a habit of finding Leslie in a crowd.

Normally, she brushed off their suggestive comments and told them to keep walking. But today, her head was racing and exhausted; the public forum had taken three hours and she hadn’t slept in over a day. She didn’t have the energy to tell the man in a singlet in front of her to leave her alone.

“Hey babe, you ready to go?”

Leslie twisted to see whose arm had found its way around her waist. She frowned up at him.

“What-”

“Is this guy bothering you?” He widened his eyes at her purposefully, before looking the greasy-haired guy in front of them up-and-down.

“Who are you?” The man asked.

Ben’s arm tightened around Leslie’s middle, protectively. “I’m Leslie’s boyfriend, and I think it would probably be best if you walked away.”

He scoffed at Ben but gave in and obeyed.

Ben’s hand fell from her waist, and he wiped it on his jeans, “God, that was terrifying.”

Leslie smiled up at him, “You didn’t have to do that for me. Thank you.”

He became acutely aware of the line of nervous sweat along the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was because the guy who’d been hitting on Leslie could have easily knocked him out with one punch, or the fact that she was looking at him like he was the only one in the room.

“Oh no problem. **I, uh, loved pretending to be your boyfriend.”** _Was that too forward?_ He looked down, scrambling to sound casual, “You know, if it stops sleazy guys from bothering you.”

She nodded, grinning to herself and he watched her walk back to where the rest of the department were standing. His hand was still burning from touching her; it had slipped around her waist so naturally, he had to remind himself that she wasn’t actually his.

* * *

2\. His hands were knots in her hair and there was no one else in the world but them. No Chris, no stupid rule; just them and their heavy breaths and the start of their story.

He needed to know every part of her; every crease, every line, every freckle on her skin. His lips took photographs of her body. She laced her fingers together behind his neck and pulled him back to her. Their eyes were shouting the same thing; she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

**And he wanted her so fucking much.**

* * *

3\. It had been exactly seventeen minutes since he’d last kissed her and he couldn’t stand it.

Last night had been full of firsts; kisses and sex and falling asleep with her in his arms. And now here he was - in the same suit he was wearing yesterday - watching her scoop spoonful’s of Nutella into her mouth.

“And his ideologies were so fundamentally wrong, in every aspect. How we let someone like that run an entire country is beyond me. What do you think?”

She was telling him about someone’s biography, presumably a president. Normally, he listened to every word she said but he was distracted by the way her hair bobbed when she got enthusiastic and how her eyes narrowed when she scraped the sides of the tub, collecting as much chocolate on her spoon as she could. Also, she was wearing nothing but an old shirt and underwear.

“Ben?” She repeated, “What do you think?”

He stared at her staring at him. She cocked her head to the side, confused, and it was the most adorable thing Ben had ever seen. He crossed the wooden kitchen floor until barely an inch separated them. **He leaned his forehead against hers, not wanting to take any of this for granted, not even for a second.** And then he kissed her.

His hands curled around her neck, hers slid to his lower back. The kiss was passionate and tender and theirs.

He pulled back, leaving her stunned. “That’s what I think.”

* * *

4\. Bloomington belonged to Ben and Leslie.

Or at least, it felt like it did. The could walk the streets in plain sight and Ben could wrap his arms around her without worrying who would see.

It was seven o’clock on a Thursday and they were running a little late for their dinner reservation. The car park was full, so they were forced to drive further down the street.

Ben liked the sound that Leslie’s heels made against concrete. It was rhythmic and soothing; it meant she was there, walking next to him. His hand found hers and he twined their fingers together. She squeezed his palm and smiled up at him.

A car sped past them, so close to the sidewalk that Leslie swore.

She yelled profanities after the Toyota, but they went unheard. Ben pulled their laced fingers behind him, stepped in front of Leslie and guided her to the other side of him. She frowned at him, curious.

**“You’re safer this side.”**

* * *

5\. Leslie had a feeling that Donna was starting to suspect something. She’d wandered into Leslie’s office out of the blue and asked her what she thought of Ben and how he always hung around their department.

“I don’t know, who cares? He’s not, I…I hate him…you’re…”

She’d left the room before she could splutter some more. Then she gave Ben a note saying they had to cool it for a while, until Donna had lost interest.

Less than twenty-four hours had passed when Leslie’s phone buzzed, Ben’s name making her smile.

“Hey, Babe.” His voice was smooth.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she whispered, “I thought we weren’t going to talk for a few days?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… **I needed to hear your voice.”**

* * *

6\. Ben tapped on the door to Leslie’s office. Streaks of hair had fallen out of its pins, framing her face in messy, blonde curls. Piles of paper surrounded her, as did three coffee mugs. She was nibbling the corner of her mouth in concentration, and it took all of Ben’s self-control to resist walking over to her desk and making out with her.

“Hey, beautiful.” He lent his head against the door frame.

She jumped at his voice, having spent the last few hours with only silence and her binders. Her face broke into a grin as soon as she saw him, standing in front of her holding two plastic containers.

“Hey, are you here to have dinner with me?” She stood up and glanced around the office. It was empty, and had been since five. But she kept checking nevertheless.

He kissed her cheek, “Actually, no. I’m just dropping this off for you since you were working late.” He handed her the containers. **“That one’s full of waffles, the other is full of whipped cream.”**

Her eyes lit up, “You know me so well, Wyatt.”

* * *

7\. Leslie had spent the whole weekend moping and mourning Li’l Sebastian.

Ben had tried everything; waffles, a documentary on Eleanor Roosevelt, and even her Harry Potter audiotapes. Nothing had worked.

She was lying on the couch, a tub of ice cream by her side. Ben suddenly had an idea; the Beatles always made him feel better whenever he was down. He typed them into the search bar of his phone and connected it to her speakers. The melody filled the air, drowning out the soap opera that Leslie wasn’t watching.

“What are you doing?” She asked, looking up at his outstretched hand.

**“Dance with me.”**

She placed a limp hand in his and allowed him to pull her upright. He draped her arms around his shoulders and wound his own around her waist. He began to sway, moving them in time to the music.

“Here comes the sun, do do do do…”

He sang into her ear, softly, and she smiled into his neck.

“Li’l Sebastian liked the Beatles.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben inquired, glad that he seemed to have her talking.

“Yeah, I played him some of their songs during the Harvest Festival. He neighed.”

Ben pulled back and grabbed her hands, spinning her around as a grin crept onto her face. She began to sing the words with him, laughing when he got them wrong. He placed her arms back around his shoulders and buried his face into her neck, kissing her lightly.

“Thank you.” She whispered, “This helped.”

He moved from her neck to her lips, but he wasn’t asking for more; just letting her know that he was here for her. He always would be.

* * *

8\. Ben should have known better.

He should have known better than to suggest a game of monopoly. It had started out as friendly banter and Leslie couldn’t stop giggling every time he landed on one of her properties. But as soon as he got his hands on Mayfair, it was war. Her competitive streak kicked in, and it had ended in a screaming match about how he always left the toilet seat up.

Leslie had been stressed and grouchy all week, on the edge of telling him something every time they were together. He wasn’t sure why they were fighting, or what they were fighting about; all he knew was they were yelling and it was exciting and Leslie looked ridiculously sexy when she was mad.

“And you know what else, Ben? I hate that blue and purple shirt you bought. It’s stupid and you’re stupid and it’s stupid.”

“You told me you liked that shirt?”

“Yeah? Well, I lied!” Her voice was loud and triumphant and it filled the entire room. She stormed into her bedroom, completely aware that he would follow.

**And he did.**

* * *

9\. He didn’t get through the entire voicemail; he heard her voice and he heard her tears. And then he was in his car, speeding and running red lights to get to her.

“Leslie, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes were red and her cheeks were lined with mascara. She’d been crying, and judging by the wine bottle in her hand, drinking.

“Ben?” His name was a drunk slur, and a question.

He ran his fingers through his hair, “You called me in hysterics, and I was worried sick.”

Her head dropped. Fresh tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she fought them off. He wanted to lift her head and kiss the sadness away, but it wasn’t his job anymore.

“I’m fine, I just had too much to drink.” She hiccuped.

Ben lingered, checking that she really was okay. Then he turned his back and made his way down her lawn.

“Ben.” Leslie spoke from the front door, barely raising her voice for him to hear, “You came.”

**“Of course I came, Leslie.”**

But he didn’t turn back. He kept walking.

* * *

 

10\. They weren’t going to think about telling Chris tonight. They weren’t going to think about how it would affect the campaign tonight. They weren’t going to think about any of that tonight.

Tonight was theirs.

They had kissed until they’d healed each other. He’d played with her hair, she’d taught him how to French braid it, she’d whispered secrets to his bare skin. They’d re-memorised each other’s touch. Leslie had turned her Macy Gray record on and closed her eyes, Ben’s fingertips drawing patterns on her back.

Her soft breaths, her mess of blonde hair, the way her body fit perfectly with his; he couldn’t live without Leslie Knope. He didn’t know how he’d lasted without her for so long. He murmured her name, and she murmured back.

“I want to spend forever doing this. **Let’s never break up again, deal?”**

“Deal.”


End file.
